


What spring does with the cherry trees

by ThyCannoli (orphan_account)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blushing, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rimming, Robb Stark is a Gift, Winterfell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:51:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ThyCannoli
Summary: Five times Theon made Robb blush and one time it happened the other way





	What spring does with the cherry trees

**Author's Note:**

> I got a little sidetracked from City of Light... I hope this doesn't suck.
> 
> Title is from Pablo Neruda's poem, Every day you play.

 

1.

The merciless northern wind blows on outside as if it was the exhale of death itself. The cold it brings seeps through Winterfell’s thick walls and makes Theon shudder in misery. He fucking hates this castle. He can probably shiver himself into a slumber, but… But. It might be one of _those nights,_ who knows, the last one was two days ago. And if it is, he definitely wants to be awake.

He debates getting out of bed to fetch some supplies, but it’s fucking cold in his room. There’s legit concern that he might not be able to get it up after walking to his desk and back. A tremble runs up his spine at the mere thought of that journey, so no, thanks. If Robb wants it, he can goddamn work for it.

He waits in patient, freezing silence until his ears pick up on a soft sound from outside his door. Theon holds his breath for a moment and there it is, that familiar indecisive padding. _Step, step, pause. Step -_ the oakwood door creaks open and closed - _step, step, step, pause. Breathing._

Theon grins, hoping the darkness hides it, and keeps feigning sleep. He knows that Robb isn’t hesitant about the sex part, far from that. No, the idiot just doesn’t want to wake him up, lest he disturb Theon’s much needed rest. So far, Theon has either called out for him or moved aside to let him in, but tonight he feels kind of curious about what Robb does when Theon really is asleep.

 _Shuffle, shuffle, sigh._ “Theon.” Robb whispers into the pitch black room. Theon can barely make out his silhouette, even though Robb wears a white nightshirt to bed. “Are you awake?”

 _Step, step._ Theon hastily closes his eyes. _Step, another sigh._ He hears the rustle of clothes and suddenly the weight of a hand presses on the top of his head, then runs over his hair in a gentle stroke. What. The. Fuck. Robb pets him when he’s sleeping? Theon can’t help it, he squirms under the touch and reaches up to catch Robb’s hand.

He expects a gasp of surprise, but he’s mistaken by a mile - Robb chuckles, toes off his boots and slides under the furs so fast that Theon’s legs barely get some frostbite.

“I knew you were pretending.” Robb says, all smug and triumphant as if he has just won in sparring against the Kingslayer, and kisses Theon with his mouth closed.

Although he’s somewhat pissed that Robb figured it out, Theon fists his fingers in Robb’s shirt and pries his lips open with his tongue. Four years ago this alone could make Robb blush, Theon remembers it clear as day, the way that innocent redness spread over Robb’s cheeks like wildfire and painted his skin rosy-warm.

“Hm, glad to have my personal bed-warmer back.” Theon teases between kisses and lets Robb roll on top.

Their first kiss was undoubtedly the most awkward experience of the year for everyone involved, which includes Robb’s horse and a pair of unfortunate hens that happened to stray there at the wrong time. They did it behind the stalls at sunset, after a long and decidedly not fun ride with Lord Eddard and his gloomy bastard. Theon wasn’t in a good mood - Snow always managed to bring out the worst in him - and Robb attempted to make it better. He wanted to share an embrace, Theon’s sure of that, but clumsy, right-after-a-growth-spurt Robb Stark tripped over his own gangly feet and, as luck had it, pushed Theon into the mud. Into the thick, sticky kind that’s almost impossible to get out of a cloth. As one could expect, Theon became rightfully angry. He had chosen his outfit very carefully to look the best he could and Robb was _ruining it_ , and his whole day sucked, and Robb was lame anyway because he didn’t know how to tie an inside clinch even after five years of knowing Theon, so Theon just… stood up, shoved him against his horse (poor mare) and kissed him hard enough that it hurt. He still hasn’t the slightest idea why he decided on that course of action, but he deserves a pat on the back for effort. It was an awful kiss, especially for Theon, who had some experience even back then. There was no softness, but lots of teeth clunking together. Theon can recall the look on Robb’s face after he pulled back, that sheer shock in his eyes and the rapid reddening of his skin - it was so beautiful that even not-yet-a-sex-god Little Theon thought it called for another, much better kiss.

2.

Now that he can freely stick his hand into Robb’s tented breeches, he thinks it’s quite reasonable that he’s proud of his young self. Good catch, that was.

“What do you want tonight?” He nips at Robb’s jaw. “Go get the oil if you want to fuck.”

“Ah, okay.” Robb moans and worms a hand under Theon’s shirt to touch the dip of his hip. “I have something new in mind.”

That sentence usually means good stuff. Like that day when Robb realised there was more to sex than using hands, even between two men. Two years ago, on the fifth day of the third moon, to be precise. Theon knows, because it was Sansa’s nameday and the first time that he… took up the woman’s role, so to say. He didn’t want Robb to lose his virginity like that, because the whores he frequented told him it hurt and Theon wanted to make it a pleasant memory for shy little Robb Stark. He mostly succeeded - and it didn’t even hurt, those stupid sluts lied - but Theon prefers to reminisce about what happened _before_ they done the deal, because it was so funny.

At the time, Robb had just started to turn into a man and he still had quite a bit of the boyish bashfulness that he decidedly lacks now. While Theon has never been bothered by nudity (much), Robb looked mortified when Theon threw all his clothes off himself like it was nothing. He just stood there in his undergarments, fidgeting and embarrassed, and only occasionally flicked his gaze up to Theon’s uncovered body. His face had the colour of his hair and Theon itched to kiss it, to feel the warmth of it against his lips. He wanted to push Robb onto the bed and test if he liked riding as much as Theon did, but it would have been a little hard with Robb’s breeches on.

 _“Well, what are you waiting for?”_ Theon scowled and put his hands on his hips.

_“I thought we - I thought we didn’t have to be naked.”_

_“Why the fuck did you think that?”_

_“Because Father said sex was like… like a special hug. I didn’t really think it through.”_

Theon never understood why some lords refused to hire courtesans for that sort of education. No surprise it led to disasters, like Robb thinking he could impregnate a maiden with a _special hug._ Good grief, a thing Balon Greyjoy did better than Lord Perfect... Theon never thought he would see the day. Now that he thinks about it again, he realises that maybe that’s the reason why Snow is so determined to join the Watch. He doesn’t even know it’s not _hugs_ he’s going to miss out on!

“Are you thinking about our first time again?” Robb asks when Theon breaks into laughter beneath him. “It was just a fleeting thought two years ago, can’t you forget it?”

“Oh no, it’s too precious.” Theon smirks and rolls his hips into Robb’s. “Come, baby, give me a hug, I want it so bad.” He mocks in a high-pitched voice.

3.

“You are insufferable.” Robb groans and gets up to fetch the oil. He shucks his clothes before jumping back under the furs and kisses Theon’s jaw. There are goosebumps all over his arms from the cold, but his interest hasn’t waned, he’s still  hard, much to Theon’s satisfaction. “You can keep your shirt on.”

“Great.” Theon huffs as Robb tugs off his breeches and squeezes his ass. “I don’t like pain, so if your idea includes spanking, we should switch places.”

Robb pauses for a moment, frowning in confusion. “Where do you even get these ideas?”

“I make them up.” No, Theon totally doesn’t, but Robb doesn’t need to know that.

He has a book, in truth. He has stolen it from Mæster Luwin, not like the old man could have any use for it. Not even Ross’ assets could help with that, in Theon’s opinion. The book is about the sexual customs of Westeros with a few valuable additions from Essos. Positions, equipment, herbs to spice things up - it’s all included in Theon’s priceless source. With little changes here and there, he can do practically everything with Robb. Up until this day, Theon’s favourite has been the ‘Hasty Wildling’. It required a tree, some oil to ease the way and enough desperation on Robb’s part to agree. They did it only once, but boy, was it good.

It was a risky thing, but Theon couldn’t resist - his trips to the brothel had ceased since Robb very quietly asked him to stop. Some of the prostitutes cried at the loss, but what was he to do? Robb meant the world (and still does).

So Theon sent his last regular whore away and coaxed _Robb_ into the Godswood instead. He pressed him up against an old oak, in plain sight from the beautiful weirwood, and fucked him in the first rays of dawn. He remembers how loud Robb had been that time, aroused from the fear of getting found with Theon’s cock in his ass, and how he blushed when Theon whispered into his ear. _“They can come here anytime. Anyone could see you. What are they going to think, huh?”_

Robb shook his head frantically, his eyes wide and lips parted, and his skin flushed down to his sternum. Theon touched the heat of that redness and kissed him on the lips, tasted the sweet flavour of desire on his tongue.

 _“You lovely thing, you… The things you make me want…”_ He remembers saying. Or maybe he just thought that? What he knows for sure is that he spent himself harder than ever before, it felt like his soul left his body for a moment. Sadly, Robb refuses to repeat the encounter. What a pity.

4.

“Turn around.” Robb murmurs into his ear and kisses him once more. Theon sighs and obeys with a hint of reluctance. Don’t be mistaken, he likes getting fucked by Robb, but nowadays his preference shifted to doing it face to face. He doesn’t know why, though. (Or he prefers not to acknowledge it.)

Robb slides under the covers and down Theon’s body, kneading his ass. He kisses the skin just above it, then his lips trail lower and lower and... _okay,_ that’s a perfectly acceptable reason to turn Theon onto his stomach. The best reason, even.

“Hm, I like your way of thinking.” Theon hums and closes his eyes in enjoyment as Robb works him in preparation of what’s sure to come tonight. His cock is trapped under him and he can’t help it, he starts rocking back and forth between Robb’s mouth and the bedding, caught in the overwhelming pleasure of it.

Back when they were no more than silly boys experimenting with whatever willing thing they could - alright, Theon was. Robb has always been a one-at-a-time kind of lordling - it was always Theon who took care of the preparation. Robb was afraid of hurting him and Theon was afraid of Robb _hurting himself,_ so he did it for both of them until Robb got the hang of it. He remembers how he used to blush when Theon touched him _there,_ how he used to have that helplessly open look on his face as Theon’s oil-slick fingers moved into him. His blue eyes shone, with excitement or adoration, Theon could never tell, and he whimpered so wonderfully when Theon kissed along his sparse collection of freckles. He always said _“I’m ready, I’m ready”_ minutes before he really was and turned a darker shade of crimson whenever Theon conceded at last.

5.

That’s the only thing Theon misses from that half a year of fumbling, Robb’s easy blush. As of late, he’s been like a sex fiend, nothing makes him bothered. He’s eager to do Theon’s filthiest fantasies as long as they are safe and sound, and nothing colours his cheeks that charming ruby anymore.

Well, no, there’s one thing. Theon’s book calls it ‘The King’s Speech’, which sounds as though the mæster’s imagination has run a little wild. Basically, it consists of roughness, saying dirty things and making the other take everything you want to give them. The thing is, Robb likes it to an extent. He likes to be held down and called a slut, he likes it when Theon describes in detail what he’s doing to him. He likes it and it makes him somewhat ashamed, and for that, he likes it even more. Weird, right? But Theon knows that’s how it works. That doesn’t mean he’s entirely comfortable doing that to Robb, it’s too much of a knife-play, walking on the edge of pleasant embarrassment and outright humiliation, which isn’t a wise sort of game when one’s playing with their lord’s son. He did try it a couple of times, though, and he has vivid memories of Robb’s pretty mouth open in pleasure, saying _“yes, yes, I’m yours”,_ and his skin tinted a burning cerise. What a view that was.

+1

As Robb’s lips move to his lower back to give room for his fingers, Theon starts wondering whether he would like that too, that sort of speech. Maybe he would, if it came from the right person. Only one way to find out, right? He arches his hips and sighs in pleasure, still rocking back and forth, and says “Talk to me.”

It comes out closer to a plea than he would have liked, but Robb doesn’t mention it. He hitches himself higher, half-spread over Theon’s back, and pushes his fingers one knuckle deeper. Theon swallows a moan and drops his head onto his forearm, panting. Robb kisses his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt.

“You are so gorgeous like this, almost ready for me.” He murmurs into Theon’s ear and twists his hand. “I wish there were no clouds hiding the moon from us tonight, it would help me see what I can’t now, your stunning body. Oh how I long to see you, Theon, you wouldn’t believe.”

Fuck, not this kind of talk. It’s supposed to be dirty, Robb really doesn’t understand? Or is this the filthiest Robb Stark could do? Surely not. “Tell me what you are going to do to me.”

Robb removes his fingers and settles between Theon’s parted legs, propped up on an elbow. “I’m going to make love to you.”

Oh no, that saying again. Every once in a while a bit of this comes out of Robb, but Theon always shuts him up before he really gets into it. No need for that mushy, flowery talk here, Theon’s not a mistress who needs to be pampered. _Tell that to a kitchen maid, I’m a man,_ he would like to mutter sometimes, but he knows Robb would feel hurt and seriously, it’s just an expression. Doesn’t mean anything.

Robb slips an arm under Theon’s chest and rests fully on Theon’s back like a thick, warm blanket. With Robb so snug behind him, the room doesn’t feel cold anymore. Theon feels how Robb’s chest expands with every breath, how his knuckles brush against Theon’s ass as he strokes himself to full hardness. Just a bit more and he’s going to slide in, finally, just one more stroke and some oil and… _aah,_ there he is.

“I’ll be slow and gentle, because I want to enjoy every moment.” Robb whispers and pulls out halfway, slides back in with a languid roll of his hips. He fills Theon so well, spreads him just right, not too much, not too little, just right.

“You deserve this, Theon. And I want to give it to you, my kindness, my everything… “ Robb takes a shaky breath and thrusts again, once, twice, pushes Theon’s legs further apart with his knees. He entwines the fingers of his outstretched hand with Theon’s. “Take it, I want you to take it.”

 _“Robb.”_ Theon whimpers. This is _so_ _not_ what he had in mind, this is not dirty talk, but torture, the sweetest torture, the only one Robb Stark could ever inflict. “Stop. Please, stop.”

“No.” Robb tightens his hold around Theon’s chest and mouths along his neck, from jawline to collarbone. His stubble scrapes Theon’s skin raw, but the sting of it brings no relief, the lazy moves of Robb’s hips keep on the endless ebb and flow of delight. “I want you to say it, what we both feel, I want you to tell me and mean it, like you mean your kisses, like you mean your touch.”

The air catches in Theon’s throat and he bites into his lower lip, squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t know what -”

“I know you do.” Robb cuts him off softly. He doesn’t pick up his pace, but lingers longer, nudges the spot that makes Theon ache from desire. “I know you do.”

Theon tenses to buck him off, but he can’t bring himself to do it. It feels as though Robb splits him open in more than one way and it’s pain and fear and rapture and love all at once. He wants it to end and he wants it to go on forever. He wants to let go.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Theon asks and his sight blurs, but none of his tears drop. The sound of their bodies slapping together barely reaches his ears over the wild thrumming of his pulse, the frantic beats of his heart, as he starts pushing back into Robb’s thrusts. The movement changes the depth, makes Robb slide in to the hilt.

“Because we need this.” Robb gasps and moves with more force, chasing his bliss. As their peak gets closer and closer, his nails press little white crescents into Theon’s palm, like a constellation of moons. _“I_ need this.”

“Need what?”

“For you to... admit it.”

The hand under Theon’s chest finds a nipple and rubs it through his shirt. Theon whines and tries to… to pull back or to press forward, he doesn’t even know, but he can’t do either, Robb’s mouth is on his neck, his fingers on his nipple, his cock in ass, his weight on his back, his hand in his hand - Theon’s trapped and used and wanted and he can’t hold back anymore. He cries out and comes,  just as Robb lets out a quiet grunt of ecstasy and spends himself too, spends himself from the pleasure that Theon gives him, and it feels like something breaks within the cage of Theon’s ribs.

“I love you. I love you.” He sobs and curls up as much as he can, trembling, and untangles his fingers from Robb’s steel-like grip. “I shouldn’t, but I do, Robb, I do. I love you.”

He has never said those three words before. Not to his mother, not to his sister, not to any of his lovers, paid or free. Now that they are out, the hurt of their existense doesn’t stop, only intensifies into something palpable, unfamiliar. Yet another source of humiliation - rejection. Because Robb asked for the confession, he did, but he must have expected something else, something far less dangerous than love. He pulls out and his warmth rises from Theon’s back. He’s leaving, leaving...

“I’m sorry.” Theon mumbles and holds back the rest of his tears. There can’t be anything more humiliating than this. He’s half-naked and sweaty, his shirt sticks to him like an old, disgusting skin, there’re fluids leaking from his ass and he has just confessed his most guarded feelings and apologised for them. What a pitiful, wanton thing he is.

“Oh Theon.” Robb sighs into his ear and tries to turn him over by his shoulder. “Look at me, please.”

Theon sags and goes with Robb’s pull, turns onto his back. He stares at Robb’s heaving chest dejectedly, starts counting the soft hairs on it, as much as he can see them. “Look at me.” Robb repeats in a whisper and tilts Theon’s chin up. His teeth gleam white as he smiles down and cradles Theon’s face. “I love you too.”

Theon stops breathing. “What?”

“I love you.” Robb kisses him and reaches down to caress his thigh. “I’ve loved you from the beginning. Can you believe that?”

“No.” Theon laughs incredulously, his cheeks heating up. Huh, it has gotten warm... His mind has just started to catch up and switched off his self-hatred in favor of a not yet identified type of joy. “You do?”

“Yes.” Robb smiles at him again and presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “You are blushing.”

“Oh.” That’s impossible. A Greyjoy doesn’t blush. He’s just… hot. “I’m not blushing. You are too hot.”

“Well, thanks.” Robb smiles again - doesn’t smirk, he never smirks - and nuzzles the side of Theon’s face, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m so happy, Theon, so fucking happy.”

Theon stares up at the pitch black ceiling of his room, the merciless northern wind still blowing on outside, and he thinks, _alright,_ _maybe this castle isn’t so bad after all._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave some feedback if you liked it! :)


End file.
